One in a thousand
by BHP
Summary: Mark feels very alone when starting law school full-time; but is he really alone?
1. Chapter 1

All the usual disclaimers apply: the characters and the show aren't mine, although I might wish otherwise.

**One in a thousand**

It was a beautiful late summer day, with a clear blue sky so bright it hurt to look at it. A gentle breeze wafted the scent of salt across the open green square from the nearby ocean, but most of the people gathered there were too excited to notice. Small groups of people scattered here and there, dressed in the standard uniform of teenagers and young people: denims, sneakers, t-shirts covered in slogans designed to be controversial. In the midst of all the groups, the single young man stood out. Not so much for his dress, which wasn't that different from the other people around him, although the worn t-shirt, loudly proclaiming 'I love San Francisco' in bright red letters, wasn't anywhere near as radical as the others in the square. No, what set this young man with the curly brown hair apart from the others, aside from the fact that he was completely alone, was his age. A careful look at his face showed that he had at least a decade's worth of experience over the other students, and the serious blue eyes conveyed a wealth of knowledge about a world that wasn't always kind or fair.

Mark tilted his head back slightly and stared intently at the large and imposing brick building in front of him. Law school. Who'd have ever thought that Mark McCormick would end up here? Time in prison, and years as Hardcastle's sidekick had proved that things never worked out quite the way you planned, but this still seemed almost unreal. Not to mention expensive. Mark tightened his grip on the papers he held. Registration had been simple enough, and quicker than Hardcastle had predicted, but he still felt completely shattered when he looked at the bill for a year's tuition at law school. And that was just for one year. Somehow the cost hadn't seemed so high when he'd been taking classes on a part-time basis. Hardcastle had agreed to pay the fees, but Mark couldn't help feel that he was taking advantage of the older man in some way.

Thinking of Hardcastle, Mark couldn't help but smile. If only some of the people who'd appeared before the now-retired judge could only have seen the jurist that morning. The ratty old sneakers, the dirt so ingrained that Mark had given up on trying to get them clean. The dreadfully loud Hawaiian shirt, the nondescript shorts and windswept grey hair. Hardcastle had looked just like every beach bum he'd ever tried to chase off his own private beach. The only things that belied the outward appearance were the lively blue eyes alight with intelligence and mirth. Still, he'd been the author of Mark's salvation three years ago. He'd given the younger man a second chance, and then kept at him until Mark had seen the light and made good on the promise the judge had seen in him. To be honest, sometimes he still wasn't sure what the judge had seen in him, but he would always be grateful. Clasping the papers to his chest, he let his mind drift as he looked up at the building in front of him, picturing successes in class and in court; successes to make the judge proud of him.

"I'm so glad you could both come with me. Oh, I'm so excited, I don't know where to go first!" The slightly shrill voice intruded suddenly on Mark's reverie and he jerked back to reality just in time to take a step back before the excited young girl ran straight into him. Totally oblivious to his presence, she carried on walking, followed at a distance by two older people that Mark could only assume were her parents. The mother looked slightly bemused at all the hustle and bustle surrounding them, while the father looked both proud and resigned to not being able to reign his daughter in. The 'Equality before the law' badge displayed prominently on the girl's shoulder bag made things clear to Mark; she'd come from Nebraska to study law and her parents had obviously come to make sure she got settled in safely. Suddenly, Mark missed his mother fiercely. She should have been here to share this day with him. He'd have loved to take his mother around the campus and see how proud she would have been to see him here. But he was all alone and he suddenly felt very old and out of place amongst all the enthusiastic youngsters.

Walking blindly away from the happy group, he made for the first open door he could see and entered the building. The difference in light levels made Mark stop just inside the door and wait for his eyes to adjust. The silence was deep and striking, and Mark took a slow breath and let himself relax as he realised that he'd stepped into the campus library. He'd planned to come here before classes started anyway, so setting off slowly, he took himself on a tour of the floors and shelves, mentally mapping out where all the law books were kept. He also made note of a few secluded study tables. It never hurt to have a sanctuary marked out before you needed it. Some things you learned in prison had their parallels in everyday life as well. Dropping into a chair at one of the quiet tables near a window, Mark let his gaze drift to the scene outside the window. Watching the little groups made him feel isolated from the rest of the world. Sensing the start of a slide into depression, Mark gave himself a mental shake. 'You're a grown man, for Pete's sake, McCormick. Act like one.' An involuntary grin surfaced as that thought struck a chord in his memory, and his mind replayed breakfast at the estate that morning.

"So, kiddo, today's the big day, huh? Registration. I bet that'll take you hours." Hardcastle had sounded incredibly smug about this, although Mark wasn't sure if that was because the older man thought that Mark would screw it up somehow, or if he knew that there were reams of paperwork waiting somewhere with Mark's name on it. "You sure you don't want me to come along with you?"

Mark had laughed while shaking his head. "I'm a grown man, Judge. I think I can manage a little paperwork on my own. And if I can't, perhaps I should be sticking to garden maintenance as a career." Digging out a scrap of paper and a pen from his pocket, Mark had scribbled a few quick reminders for himself. Seeing the question on Hardcastle's face, Mark had tipped his head at the list. "Just some stuff I need to pick up for the garden this afternoon, Judge. We need some fertilizer and some gas for the mower. Anything you want me to add to the list?"

Hardcastle shook his head, and moved to clean away the dishes. "So what are you going to be doing while I get the paperwork done, Judge? You're not planning on digging something out of your files, are you?" They'd had this discussion before, and Mark was firmly of the opinion that Hardcastle should leave the files alone during term time. It wasn't that he thought the older man couldn't look after himself, but Hardcase did seem to attract an inordinately large number of criminals who were just too stubborn to know when to quit. Hardcastle had made it clear that he wasn't planning to sit around Gulls' Way all day doing nothing, and in his words, 'going to seed like all those other old codgers' who'd retired from the bench. Hardcastle considered stringing the kid along, but seeing the look of honest concern on Mark's face, he decided that he could mollify the younger man this once.

"I was planning on cleaning out the files a bit; you know, putting the cases we've finished into storage, adding new information to some of the ones I'd like to look at soon. I'm not going to go chasing anyone down today, so get that look off your face, McCormick." Mark had smiled at that. Milton Hardcastle was many things, but a liar wasn't one of them. If he said he wasn't going hunting bad guys today, then he'd keep his word. Few things in the world were as solid as Hardcastle's word, a fact Mark was thankful for every day.

"I'll help you out with that when I get back. I shouldn't be that long; it's only a little paperwork, after all." Mark grabbed his jacket and the transcripts of his results from other courses as he got ready to leave. He could hear Hardcastle laughing as he left, and he was sure he heard the older man mutter, "That's what you think. Wait till you see the queues."

Dragging his mind back to the present, Mark looked down at the papers on the table in front of him. He couldn't believe the amount of paperwork he'd waded through already, and he still had to deal with these papers. The top sheet of paper was the account for tuition, but the pages under that were the book lists, class schedules, tutorial groups and course rules and information. It was almost enough to make him wish he'd taken Hardcastle up on his offer of company this morning. At least, the judge had been through all of this before. But Mark hadn't wanted to emphasise the fact that the judge should have been able to do all this with Tommy, and that Milt would never be able to have that experience. He was sure, although he knew the judge would never say as much, that Hardcastle had counted on Tommy following in his footsteps and going to law school. Just as Mark would have liked his mother to see him making something good of himself. She'd always believed that he would do something wonderful one day, and he wished she could have seen where he'd ended up. So, in a sense, neither he nor the judge had got exactly what they'd hoped for. Seeing how things had worked out for him, though, Mark had to admit that sometimes second-best was more than good enough.

Checking his watch, Mark figured he could spend another half hour in the library before heading home. Wandering through the literature section, he found his attention caught by the name on the spine of a poetry book, 'Rudyard Kipling'. He could remember that his mom had liked Kipling's stories and had read him some fanciful tales about elephants and cats as a young child. Most of the details were vague, but Mark remembered feeling safe and loved while listening to the stories. Driven by a feeling he couldn't quite put a name to, he lifted the book from the shelf, and flipped through it. A couple of lines caught his eye:

'For the Thousandth Man will sink or swim  
With you in any water.'

Wanting to read the rest of the poem, Mark tucked his papers into the book to mark the page. Then, book under his arm, he headed for the issue desk, digging his newly issued student card out of his wallet. A notice on the counter attracted his attention while the librarian issued his book, and he tucked a copy into the book along with his other papers. Perhaps it could be the solution to a niggling problem. Ten minutes later, he was leaving the campus, followed by any number of appreciative whistles aimed at the Coyote. He smiled at the thought that he would have done the same thing ten years earlier; apparently all young men appreciated cars in the same way.

Gulls' Way was silent when Mark pulled into the driveway and parked the Coyote. Wandering around to the pool only proved that the judge was nowhere in sight, leading Mark to assume that he was still in the basement with his precious files. He headed into the gatehouse and put the book and the papers on the table. Deciding he could wait ten minutes before looking for the judge, he opened the book and read the whole poem. He could feel the emotion of the words pulling at him, and tears threatened for a moment. Putting the papers back in the book, he closed it gently. Then he pulled the tuition account out and looked at it again. The price hadn't changed and still scared him rigid. He dropped the account next to the book, and leaving everything on the table he headed to the main house to track down the judge.

Down in the basement, Milton Hardcastle had already finished boxing up the cases he and Mark had closed over the last three years. He sighed deeply and stretched his arms above his head. He was getting too old for this sort of work; filing was for younger people. The number of folders was actually surprising, not to mention quite gratifying. Most of the folders were old, and dealt with cases Hardcastle had earmarked when he was still on the bench. Some of the folders were new, though, and they dealt with the cases that he and Mark hadn't gone looking for; things like Mark's shooting in Arizona. The kid didn't know that Hardcastle had kept a file on that. Mark didn't need to be reminded of how badly his hopes had been shattered that weekend, and Hardcastle had no intention of being the person who made Mark relive the unpleasant memories. Then again, Mark had never asked whether there was a file, so the judge had never had to lie about it. He didn't think he'd be able to lie to Mark now, even if he had a really good reason for it. They had too much trust built up between them, and too much water had passed under that particular bridge to go back to how things had been when they'd first met.

He'd been thrilled when the young ex-con had told him he was going to law school. He'd always wanted a son to follow in his footsteps in upholding the law, but when Tommy had died, he'd accepted that his dream would never come true. And then he'd met Mark, and somehow the younger man had become as important to him as Tommy had been. Mark wasn't a replacement for Tommy, but he'd become a combination of a second son and best friend, all rolled into one person. It would've been nice if Mark had learned to curb his smart mouth a bit, though, as it tended to lead him into more trouble than any one person needed. Then again, he wouldn't have been the same person without the smart alec comments. And that was the person that Hardcastle had come to love, even though he'd never openly admit to the emotion.

Milt wondered how Mark had got on at the campus that morning. He'd been trying to irritate Mark with his talk of queues and paperwork, but now he wondered if he shouldn't have insisted on going along. He could've just wandered around, maybe even visited some of the lecturers he'd gone to school with himself, while Mark got the paperwork done, but at least the younger man would have had company. The campus was going to be filled with families and groups of students who'd come together to register. Mark was going to feel very alone. Hardcastle had felt that way when Nancy had died, and it had been worse when he contemplated retiring and living alone on the estate. Sarah had been there to keep him company, but even a good friend wasn't always enough to banish the loneliness of having no family of your own. Mark had saved him from years of living just such a lonely existence, and he wished he could return the favour. But the younger man was fiercely independent, and Hardcastle had given in and stayed home.

That was another thing he wasn't looking forward to. Days and weeks and months of having to stay home, while his brain stagnated and his instincts grew blunt, so that Mark could sit in lectures and write assignments. The kid had honestly been worried about him, and in a fit of insanity he still couldn't explain, he'd promised that he wouldn't chase down any criminals alone. That meant he could only look for cases in the breaks between Mark's courses. He was going to go insane, he could just guarantee it. And he was sure it would be a slow and painful process. One day, Mark would come home and find him talking to himself, or worse, talking to non-existent figments of his own imagination. And he just knew that those arguments, where he was fighting both sides, would probably make Mark laugh till he cried. And then the younger man would be looking for the nearest loony bin with a vacant bed.

Hearing a noise in the house, Hardcastle cocked his head sideways and listened intently. A door slammed and the familiar sounds of Mark in the kitchen made him smile before he even realised what he was doing. Before he could move, he could hear the younger man clattering down the stairs. Wiping the smile off his face, Hardcastle snapped, "Can't you do anything quietly, McCormick? Doors can be closed, as well as slammed, you know!"

Mark just laughed. "You need some new material, Judge. Besides, you know you missed me. Come on, admit it." The teasing felt so completely normal that Milt forgot his sombre thoughts from earlier. "I like the doors where they're supposed to be, kiddo, hanging on their hinges."

"Well, we both know it'll be my job to fix the hinges, so I think I can close the door any way I like." The snappy comeback surprised a laugh from the judge. Sometimes there was just no way to keep the kid down. Mark looked pointedly at his watch, and then at the files still lying on the table. "Are you just about done here, Judge? It's lunch time. We can finish this up later, if you like."

Nodding at that, Milt headed for the stairs. "Those files just need to be filed away again. I've updated them all, and put all the closed ones into storage already. You wouldn't believe how many closed cases we've got back there now." Mark considered the sealed boxes for a second and then shook his head. Maybe he was better off not thinking about how many times the judge had nearly got himself killed. Thoughts like that might make him worry about leaving the older man alone for hours every day. Although the notice from the library might be a good solution to that problem. Now, he just needed to find a good way to present the idea to the judge. A way that didn't involve the judge biting his head off for meddling in things that were none of his business.

Lunch was a simple plate of sandwiches, shared at the poolside while the two chatted about gardening chores, the likelihood of rain and whether to ask Frank and Claudia around for dinner at the weekend. Hardcastle got the feeling that Mark was brooding on something, but experience had taught him that there was no point in trying to get the younger man to talk before he felt ready. Mark eventually gathered up the plate and glasses and headed into the kitchen, while Hardcastle contemplated the view for a few minutes. Getting to his feet, the judge followed Mark into the kitchen and sorted through the papers on the table. "Hey, kiddo, where's the account from the school? I can get the cheque written for that today, and you can get it to the university tomorrow."

Mark twitched slightly at the reminder of the account. He really needed to talk to the judge about that. He just couldn't let the judge pay it for him. "I left everything in the gatehouse, Judge. I'll fetch it when I'm done here." Wiping the last glass and putting it away, Mark turned back to sink to let the water run out. He could hear Hardcastle shifting slightly behind him, then the judge headed for the den. "Okay, kiddo, see you in a few minutes."

Mark made his way back to the gatehouse and collected the book with all the papers stuffed in it, and headed straight into the den. Flopping down in his usual chair, he dropped the book in his lap, then glanced over at the judge. Hardcastle's clear blue gaze met his easily, and before he could talk himself out of saying anything, Mark started to talk. "Uh, Judge, I wanted to talk to you about that account. You know, law school is really expensive, and I know we made that bet, but I just don't think that you should be paying it for me, 'cause it's not like I'm really family or anything …" Finally running out of breath, Mark's voice died away. He dropped his gaze to the book still on his lap.

Hardcastle was trying hard not to laugh. He'd had a feeling that the account had been the problem that Mark had been worrying at in his head since he got home. Law school was expensive, but he'd known what the cost was when he made the bet. Mark was worth the cost, but trying to explain that wasn't going to be easy. Not to mention dealing with the fact that the kid still had this idea that family deserved better treatment than Mark did. He knew he should just tell the kid how important he was, but he just couldn't seem to find the words to say what was in his heart.

"Slow down, Mark. Take a breath, would you?" Hardcastle's amusement softened the words. "I know exactly what law school costs; and I knew what it cost when I made that bet. So stop worrying about it. I'd have made the same bet with anyone in my family that I made with you, so just hold up your end of the deal. Hand it over!" Hardcastle held out his hand expectantly.

Mark kept his head down as he slowly opened the book to the pile of papers. He didn't trust himself to meet the older man's eyes until he'd managed to get his head around the fact that Hardcastle was treating him like he would any other member of his family. Picking up the sheets, he laid the book on the edge of Hardcastle's desk. Muttering to himself, Mark started sorting through the papers. "You know, Judge, you could have warned me about the amount of paperwork I'd have to wade through this morning. I think there was less paperwork to lock me up than there is to educate me. Somehow, that just seems wrong." Hardcastle laughed at that. "I did warn you."

"No, you didn't. You said the queues would be bad, not the paperwork. And the queues weren't so bad. They looked worse than they really were, 'cause most of the people in them weren't there to register." A quizzical look kept Mark talking. "There were lots of families and groups, and …" Mark cut himself off before going any further down that path. "I can't find it here, Judge. I must have left it in the gatehouse. I'll just go back and fetch it." Laying the pile of papers on the open book, Mark headed for the door. "McCormick. What are all those papers, anyway? And by the way, what's with the book?" Hardcastle was curious.

Mark chose to answer the last part of the question first. "The book is poetry by Rudyard Kipling. My mom liked his stuff, and she used to read me these stories about animals when I was little; you know, things about how the elephant got his trunk; stuff like that. I just felt like reading something she liked; somehow, it almost made it seem like she was there with me." Hardcastle filed that fact away, and nodded enthusiastically, while paging through Mark's book list. "I remember those stories. Nancy used to read them to Tommy as well. I think I still have a book of them around here somewhere."

"The rest of that is the paperwork, Judge. The books to buy, class schedules, all that stuff." Mark looked so unimpressed that the judge snorted in amusement. "Not quite what you pictured yourself doing tomorrow, hot shot? If you like, I'll do the round of the bookshops with you. I still have connections, you know. I can find stuff that's not on those lists, but that you'll find way more helpful. Trust me on this, not everything you need to know is in these books." Hardcastle flapped the list in the air. "Besides, with two of us, we can get to all the good stuff before the other families do." The thought of beating someone to a good deal or a useful book seemed to inspire Hardcastle as much as the thought of hunting down criminals. The man looked positively gleeful at the prospect.

Mark smiled at the thought of being part of a family again. In some ways, he supposed that's exactly what they were. Perhaps not your traditional family, but the family that stayed together by choice was most likely stronger than some of the 'normal' families they'd both seen over the years. Turning to head out to the gatehouse, Mark called back to the judge, "I'll take you up on the book shopping offer, thanks, Judge." Mark paused, one foot poised on the step. "You're one in a thousand, you know."

"That's one in a million, kiddo. Kids today," Hardcastle sighed loudly, "they can't even get their idioms right. What do they teach you lot at school these days?" Mark laughed and shook his head slightly. "I know what I said, Judge, and trust me on this, it's exactly what I meant to say." Mark was gone before the judge could figure out what that was supposed to mean. Pulling the book towards himself, Hardcastle marked the page Mark had placed the papers in and then flipped through the book, noting some of the titles and reading a few lines here and there. Reaching the page that Mark had stopped at, he read a few lines:

'But if he finds you and you find him,  
The rest of the world don't matter;'

Hearing Mark's footsteps outside the door, Hardcastle hurriedly pushed the book back to its original place on his desk. The words rang a faint bell in his memory, and he was sure it was something Nancy had read to him many years earlier. He made his mind up to look for her favourite poetry book as soon as he was alone again. Mark came back into the room, humming some unidentifiable piece of music under his breath. Milt didn't recognise the tune, and he knew better than to ask what it was supposed to be, because he was sure he'd be given the name of some artist he didn't recognise, like Bruce Springsteen or Billy Joel. Where did the kid find these records he listened to, anyway?

Mark dropped the account on the desk in front of the judge, and then dug around in the loose papers spread on the corner of the desk. His voice diffident, Mark held one paper out towards the judge. "Judge, I spotted this at the library today. I know you promised not to do anything about the files during term time, but I'm sure that's going to drive you nuts in about two weeks. Or less. I thought this might be a way to pass the time."

Milt leaned forward and took the notice from Mark. After reading it over, he thought about it for a minute. Looking back at Mark, he could see the younger man meant it; he really thought this was a good idea. "Mark, are you sure you want me to tutor on campus? It wouldn't cause you trouble or something, if people think I'll give you some sort of unfair advantage …"

Mark's snort of disdain was clear. "Like you're going to go any easier on me just because you know me. You wouldn't do that, Hardcase, it's just not in your nature. If anything, you'll probably expect me to do even better than I think I can." Hardcastle's nod was emphatic at that. "In that case, kiddo, how about we stop by this professor's office tomorrow as well. I can get all this sorted out before classes start. And then we can just relax for the rest of the summer; maybe go fishing or something for a few days."

Mark smiled at that, and admitted to himself that a few days away from everything sounded wonderful. Leaving Hardcastle to write the cheque, Mark headed for the kitchen to dig out the ingredients for supper. As soon as Mark left the room, Milt shot out from behind the desk, and searched through his book collection for Nancy's favourite poetry anthology. Flipping to the index of poets, he found the pages for Kipling and paged through the book. Settling back in his chair, he read through the poem he'd been thinking of. He remembered Nancy reading it to him one night, while he'd sat at his desk working. He'd said that the central concept of the poem was highly unlikely, and she'd always said that he'd meet someone, someday, that would prove that Kipling had been right. How he wished she were here now to see how right she'd been all those years ago.

Laying the book aside, Hardcastle pulled out his cheque book and wrote out the cheque for Mark's tuition. Laying the cheque on Mark's other papers, he rested his hand there for a second. He was glad that Mark had found the poem in the library. It never hurt to be reminded about how special some people were. Mark's head popped around the door suddenly, and Hardcastle waved a hand at the papers. "It's all here, kiddo. Do you want to keep it all together until tomorrow?" Mark nodded and came over to collect the papers and the cheque, stuffing them all back into the book.

As the younger man left the room, Hardcastle took a deep breath. Sometimes you just had to take the chance and hope things worked out the way you wanted. "Mark." Mark turned, his head tipped to one side in a silent question. "Just so you know, you're one in a thousand, too." Ducking his head as Mark stared at him in startlement, Milt turned back to his desk, shuffling papers aimlessly. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see a small, shy smile creep onto Mark's face. Clasping his book and papers to his chest, Mark cleared his throat against the rising tide of emotion. "Thanks, Judge." As the soft words seemed to fill the room, Mark turned to make his escape before he embarrassed himself by saying anything else. Glancing back, he saw a similar smile creep onto Hardcastle's face. Suddenly, he didn't feel so alone anymore.


	2. Chapter 2

For those of you who are interested, the poem mentioned in the story is by Rudyard Kipling, and is called "The Thousandth Man". I'm not quite sure what the rules about this are on but I figure as long as I tell you that it's definitely not my work, I can reproduce the whole poem here for you.

The Thousandth Man

One man in a thousand, Solomon says,  
Will stick more close than a brother.  
And it's worth while seeking him half your days  
If you find him before the other.  
Nine hundred and ninety-nine depend  
On what the world sees in you,  
But the Thousandth Man will stand your friend  
With the whole round world agin you.

'Tis neither promise nor prayer nor show  
Will settle the finding for 'ee.  
Nine hundred and ninety-nine of 'em go  
By your looks, or your acts, or your glory.  
But if he finds you and you find him,  
The rest of the world don't matter;  
For the Thousandth Man will sink or swim  
With you in any water.

You can use his purse with no more talk  
Than he uses yours for his spendings,  
And laugh and meet in your daily walk  
As though there had been no lendings.  
Nine hundred and ninety-nine of 'em call  
For silver and gold in their dealings;  
But the Thousandth Man he's worth them all;  
Because you can show him your feelings.

His wrong's your wrong, and his right's your right,  
In season or out of season.  
Stand up and back it in all men's sight –  
With _that_ for your only reason!  
Nine hundred and ninety-nine can't bide  
The shame or mocking or laughter,  
But the Thousandth Man will stand by your side  
To the gallows-foot – and after!


End file.
